


The Things That We Leave Behind

by the_mixed_up_files_of_me



Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 19:06:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11386500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_mixed_up_files_of_me/pseuds/the_mixed_up_files_of_me
Summary: Dwight leaves the war but the war has yet to leave him.





	The Things That We Leave Behind

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> Who else was emotional as heck about what Dwight is going through, this season of Poldark? Naturally, I decided to write about it.  
> I am truly curious how they will protray Dwight's PTSD this season of Poldark. PTSD is something that I myself have dealt with for the majority of my life. Writing this comes from a rather personal place in my heart and has been more healing for me than I imagined it would be.  
> Anyway, on with the fic! Thanks for listening to me ramble. Love and hugs and happy reading! Xx

If the memories only came in nightmares, at least the break of dawn's pale light pouring through the windows would rouse him from his fraught mind.

The memories do not sleep, they do not relent. They are everywhere, everywhere he looks and everything he sees.

Lights are a sharp reminder of the glowing rifles that fired endlessly day and night. Unexpected sounds bring to mind the trepidation and anticipation of who would be killed next, the sick feeling of dread and inevitability that encompassed every passing second.

And Caroline is a breathing reminder of everything he could have lost.

-

He does not sleep. Rest, however much he may need it, flees from him entirely. His hollow eyes burn and ache but they can not shut out the visions that replay over and over again, mentally retracing the atrocities that he witnessed. The screams of the sick and wounded never stop, not for a second.

To try to be tranquil weighs like a guilty burden. So many men will never feel the luxury of a bed again and Dwight wonders if it is even morally justifiable for him to enjoy the luxury of soft sheets when he knows so many have it worse.

Unable to sleep yet again, he turns over to focus on Caroline. Her chest rises and falls beneath the blankets as she methodically breathes. Moonlight streaming through the window is an illumination to her soft features; the curves of her lips, the creamy completion of her skin. Committing every detail of her to his memory, he studies her and prays for her to learn to love the new version of himself.

It is hard for Dwight to explain to her why he stares at her in reverent silence so much.

It is hard for Dwight to explain to her that he can barely believe he is back with her.

It is hard for Dwight to explain to her that she is his sole reason of staying alive.

-

Caroline's hands are cool and consoling on Dwight's face as she dries the tears and perspiration from his skin. She'd hoped that, since he finally fell asleep, he'd at least be at peace for a few moments.

Wrenching sobs awoke her in the middle of the night.

It terrified her at first; she had not seen him show any emotion since he'd returned from the war, other than restlessness and occasional irritability. He had seemed to want nothing more than space and time to recover. _How well he did hide it_ , she realises, as she tries to awaken him from the chains of his nightmares. _No doubt for my sake._

Ripping himself out of his unconscious state, eyes bloodshot, his body quivering uncontrollably, he manages to murmur, "Caroline..." Desperate hands grip at her for a state of balance; he clings to her as if he is drowning and she is the only thing in the world that can keep him above water.

"Darling..." Caroline does not know what to say; her tongue is rendered mute. No words can bring comfort to him, not now. She knows better than to say _It's alright_ because no, it is not. To deny it is poisonous. It is not alright, it is not by any stretch of the imagination _alright_. The man that she loves has been ripped apart.

And nothing is more crushing to her.

His body is cold and trembling against her form as she clutches him tightly. Caroline prays that the beat of her heart and the burning strength inside of her is enough for the two of them. If only she can share the burden, lift some of the weight off of him. Yearning to do so, she fervently kisses his tears away, dampening her lips with his pain, hoping to alleviate the aching, hollow frame that was once her husband.

Cool, soft, comfort encircles him as she pulls him back against the bed, her slender arms never letting go of him. His unsteady breathing melds with her methodical breathing, his erratic pulse mixing with her persistent one. His fingers try to memorise the pattern of her skin, the tenderness of her embrace. Burying his face against her shoulder, for the first time in what seems like ages, the warm waves of protection and safety wash over him, quenching the drought of fear and anxiety.

He exhales slowly, letting some of the numbness corrode itself away.

 _To let oneself feel everything is the first step to healing_.

-

It doesn't happen all at once.

It's so gradual, he barely notices it's not as potent as it used to be until several years later. Laughter, tears and time have done the impossible, equally filling the void that once seemed so wide.

Morning comes after nightfall and he draws back the curtains. Looking upwards at the early morning sky, he realises for the first time in a while, that the sun is shining in between the clouds. Golden sunlight streaming through the window is a balm to him, filling the room, covering his skin and his soul.

It's warm and gentle and kind.

It had seemed impossible to ever be happy again. And yet the unfamiliar emotion has been flaring up more and more recently, thanks to Caroline and her unyielding efforts to bring him comfort.

Perhaps it will take several more years to truly be happy.

Perhaps not.

Dwight will forgive himself when he smiles and feels joy again. At first, when he found himself to be calm, quells of self hatred immediately bubbled forth; how dare he feel calmness when his fellow men had died, what did he do to deserve a happier ending than the men that suffered alongside him?

Guilt still unabashedly rises when he finds himself at peace; he is one of the lucky ones and Dwight will never be fully convinced that he deserves to live. Forgiveness of oneself is a bitter pill to swallow but Dwight's heart is no longer hardened to the idea. Time has softened it to the tender emotions again. Even kindness towards himself.

There is only one person who ever reaches his heart during this time and helps him put back together the broken pieces, sewing them together with patience, love and goodness.

 _Caroline_ , he thinks to himself as he encloses his fingers around her's. The turquoise sea swells at their feet as they traverse the velvety sands. Ocean breezes rustle Caroline's locks of golden hair as she walks alongside him. She is more radiant than the sun that soars above them, of that he is certain.

She will always be the shining sun in his brightest days, the glowing moon in his darkest nights.

He brings her silky hand to his lips and presses a kiss upon it.

_My rock and my life._

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are really encouraging to me so if you want to leave one, I'd appreciate it! Feel free to talk to me on my tumblr pxggycxrters.tumblr.com. Thanks for reading! :)


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